


Worst Fear Wednesday

by doodlegirll



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Acephobia, Arthritic Cecil, Asexual Cecil, Asexuality, Carlos is a Good Boyfriend, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dorks in Love, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Mentions of Lyme Disease, Mild Sexual Content, Telepathic dreaming, The angst was a necessary evil I'm sorry, it really is so fluffy it will rot your teeth out, like it's there but it's not graphically described
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 07:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2499284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodlegirll/pseuds/doodlegirll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Night Vale's annual Worst Fear Wednesday brings unexpected revelations about Cecil that Carlos never knew, and he finds himself confronted with his boyfriend's worst fear, and it just might involve him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worst Fear Wednesday

**Author's Note:**

> I recently came out as asexual on Facebook, and while the mass majority of the responses were positive and encouraging, my parents, however, did not take it as well as I had hoped, and my father even went so far as to make a pretty hurtful acephobic joke in a comment. Rather than get upset about it, I wrote this instead, which Mixxy suggested was my way of **_[aggressively representing]_**. And it really, really helped. It really did. 
> 
> Honestly, ace!Cecil is very, very near and dear to my heart, as an asexual person myself. And while I absolutely adore ace!Carlos, the ratio of ace!Carlos to ace!Cecil is few and far between, and I just wanted to give something, you know? I've been wanting to write an Ace Vale fic for a long time, since I started writing fanfiction for the fandom, but I never could quite get down what it was I wanted to convey until, well...you get it. 
> 
> This fic is dedicated to my boyfriend of five years, Logan, who, like Carlos, is the best, most supportive, sweetest boyfriend _ever_ in the history of supportive, sweet boyfriends. I really couldn't do it without him.  <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
> 
> A huge shout-out as well to Mixx, who has honestly listened to so much of my drama she deserves a gold medal for it, and helped me out by helping me figure out the intro to this story. It means a lot. <3 
> 
> STORY SONG: "Bulletproof Picasso" by Train, and "Broken" by Lifehouse

_“Remember, listeners, tomorrow is Worst Fear Wednesday! Yes, folks, it’s that time of year again when we are all forced to come face to face with those fears that we try to keep buried within the deepest recesses of our closets, medicine cabinets, and sock drawers in order to overcome them! Now, I know that in the past, several citizens have complained that Worst Fear Wednesday is an outdated, downright scarring way of making us all face our deepest, darkest fears, but I assure you, it is all for our own good! If we didn’t have Worst Fear Wednesday, how else would the Secret Police be able to document them for their records and archives? But it’s much more than that, listeners. Worst Fear Wednesday forces us all to come to terms with just what it is that frightens us most, and in doing so, we are able to overcome those fears that keep us down! Worst Fear Wednesday allows us the chance to stand up for ourselves, and overcome our greatest hindrances in the pursuit of a better us! Nothing about facing our fears is enjoyable. It isn’t supposed to be. But…it’s a part of life. We cannot hope to move on and become the people we have always been destined to be within this infinitesimal existence that we call our own if we hold onto what it is that holds us back. So I say, take charge of your fears! Take those apprehensions like a jackalope by the horns! Do not push it back into the darkness! Instead, throw it out the window, or package it tightly in a box and overnight it to Desert Bluffs. Or, perhaps, stuff it into a mason jar and throw it into the water at the Night Vale Waterfront and Recreation Area! Either way, face your fears, Night Vale! And awaken the next morning as new and fearless as a newborn baby straight from the womb! Nothing could be more liberating than this, Night Vale. **Nothing**.” _

***

 

Carlos wasn’t sure what it was that awoke him at first as he blinked blearily into the inky darkness of his bedroom. He blinked, wide eyed, against the dim glow the neon letters of his alarm clock cast across the blankets of his bed, and he groaned as he turned his head to find that it was 2:26 AM. He was usually such a heavy sleeper; what was it that had roused him?

Upon further examination, he became highly suspicious that the arm that had been flung unceremoniously across his forehead had at least a moderate likelihood of involvement. Said arm belonged to his boyfriend, who was sleeping in the bed next to him. Carlos couldn’t help but chuckle; while he didn’t have much empirical evidence to back up his claim, what evidence he did have indicated that Cecil was a terrible bed partner (pending further investigation).

Carlos smiled fondly as he captured the hand connected to the arm across his forehead and pressing a kiss to the back of it, nuzzling the tip of his nose against the soft skin. The hand pulled away from him, retracting back to its owner, and Carlos edged himself up onto one elbow to peer down at the sleeping form of Cecil.

His smile fell when he realized that Cecil was sleeping anything but peacefully. Carlos could see, even in the darkness without his glasses, that Cecil’s cheeks were damp with tears, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his face twisted into a grimace. One hand clutched at the sheets of the bed, while the other grasped a handful of the pillow as he shook his head, moaning brokenly in what greatly resembled a sob. Carlos instinctively reached for Cecil, placing a hand on his arm and shaking him gently.

“Cecil?” He asked. “Cecil, wake up!”

Cecil’s only response was to shake his head furiously against the pillow, his face twisting further in apparent agony as more tears leaked from beneath his eyelids, running in rivers down his face and neck as he whimpered.

“Cecil!” Carlos shook his boyfriend’s arm harder in an attempt to awaken him. “Cecil, it’s okay! Wake up!”

Cecil didn’t reply. Instead, he gasped as though he had been struck across the face, his entire body going taut as he choked on a close approximation of Carlos’s name. Carlos felt his heart seize in panic at the sight of his boyfriend, clearly in distress, calling out his name.

“No, please, Carlos!” Cecil sobbed. “Carlos, please, no! No!”  

“Cecil, please!” Carlos leant over to brush the white portion of Cecil’s hair from his forehead. He pushed himself up onto his knees to kneel beside his trembling boyfriend. He whispered against the sticky sheen of sweat on Cecil’s brow, “Please, Cecil, what’s wrong?”

As his lips connected with Cecil’s forehead, the world around him melted away, like an expedited Salvador Dalí painting. Carlos looked around, startled, to find that he and Cecil were surrounded by what appeared to be void. There was no light, no solidity, no semblance of existence except the two of them. Carlos swallowed the lump of panic at the back of his throat, wondering for a moment if he had gone blind, but when he looked back down at Cecil’s still trembling form, he found that he was, in fact, still able to see him.

He removed his hand from Cecil’s shoulder, twisting around to try and catch a glimpse of something, anything, around him, but no sooner had he let go of Cecil did the void around him begin to bleed into blurry colors and shapes that he vaguely registered as his bedroom, and the form of Cecil began to blur along with it, rapidly fading. Carlos, suddenly incredibly dizzy, his vision fading at the corners, grabbed Cecil’s hand tightly in his own, and the bleeding world around him slowly became dark once more, Cecil more solid beneath him. He let out a sigh of relief and moved to slot his fingers tightly with Cecil’s, to ensure his hold on the other man. Cecil was still crying, his head thrashing back and forth where the pillow had once been, whimpering, muttering incomprehensibly.

“Shhh, Cecil, it’s okay.” Carlos soothed, running his fingers through Cecil’s hair. “I’m here. It’s okay _._ ”

Still, Cecil didn’t wake up. Carlos scooted himself closer to his boyfriend, continuing to stroke Cecil’s hair as he held his hand, daring a glance around him at the void that seemed to swallow them. There was absolutely nothing he could see, and yet, the void beneath them was a seemingly solid surface, and Carlos laid the hand that had been caressing Cecil’s hair against it to test it. His hand most definitely made contact with _something._

Why wasn’t Cecil waking up? What was going on? Every scientific synapse in his brain was firing in overdrive, trying to analyze the situation to bring about some form of hypothesis, but he found that he had nothing; nothing to grapple onto and run with, nothing with which he could compare his surroundings to findings. Nothing. The boyfriend side of his brain was beginning to tingle insistently with panic, and he tried to rein in on the racing thoughts that fired through his mind at what could possibly be wrong.

“Cecil, please, you need to wake up!” He was on the verge of begging now, hysteria beginning to edge its way into his voice. “Please, I don’t know what’s going on. I need you to wake up.”

He leant over and pressed his lips to Cecil’s forehead again, and suddenly the entire void around them erupted with soft ambiance, quiet but noticeable, and slowly, oh so slowly, the void around them began to blurrily swim into focus as the tiny sounds echoed through the din. As the world around them became much more distinctive, Carlos could see that it appeared to be some sort of bedroom, and upon further inspection, Carlos could see that it was very obviously a blend of both his and Cecil’s; Cecil’s purple bedspread was laid out neatly across his bed, with his bedside table, alarm clock, and what appeared to be a picture of the two of them making silly faces next to the desk light that presided over a book, and Cecil’s purple glitter lava lamp sat on the dresser in the corner next to a set of closet doors.

 _Their_ bedroom, Carlos realized. His heart thumped excitedly in his chest at the thought. He and Cecil had been only dating for close to four months, but had already begun to search for their own place about a month before, shortly after the condos incident. The idea that Cecil was dreaming about it—

 _Cecil’s dreaming!_ Carlos gathered with a start, everything snapping into place all at once. Cecil had told him of Night Vale’s shared dreaming phenomena a while back, and while Carlos had participated in the annual municipally mandated nightmare back in January, he and Cecil had never shared dreams before, despite Cecil mentioning in passing once that it wasn’t uncommon amongst couples. But how was it that he was even here in the first place?

Something clicked inside Carlos’s brain, like a light switch, and he found himself thrust from concerned boyfriend to scientific researcher mode. He adjusted himself on his knees next to Cecil, looking intently at his still obviously very distressed boyfriend. Very slowly, bit by bit, Carlos began to loosen his hold on Cecil’s hand. He carefully uncurled his fingers from where they were slotted against Cecil’s, and he began to notice that the world around them was slowly retracting back into void, the already faint whispers of sound that had been buzzing in his ears like a fly vanishing completely. The niggling feeling of dizziness returned to his head, and tiny black dots began to swim in his vision as he released Cecil’s hand further, until finally, he had laid Cecil’s hand against his chest, and he was touching it with nothing more than the pad of his index finger to his palm. The void had encroached almost completely, threatening to swallow him completely, with barely a sliver of light left to be seen, and he felt so dizzy he was scared he would pass out right then and there. Satisfied with the results, Carlos grasped Cecil’s hand tightly once more, and everything snapped immediately back into focus as it had been before, and Carlos gasped at the suddenness of it all, shaking his head to rid himself of the residual haziness.

Carlos took a few precious moments to gather himself, and carefully organize his findings before he looked back at Cecil’s tearstained face. There was still one last part of the experiment.

He leant back over Cecil once more. His lips barely hovering over Cecil’s forehead once more, he whispered,

“I’m listening, Cecil. Show me what’s wrong.”

He kissed his brow, and the small, whispering sounds around them heightened, filling the entire scene around them with sound. Carlos could hear the sound of cars driving past the window, the muffled drone of a television, and the soft taps of a branch in the breeze against the windowpane. He could hear footsteps outside the cracked door of the bedroom, coming closer, the floorboards slightly squeaky beneath the owners’ feet.

There was a soft thud, and then Carlos heard it.

A moan, low and throaty, reverberated through the air like thunder, and Carlos felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as his gaze was snapped from Cecil’s twisted face to the scene before them. He watched as the door to the bedroom swung open, and two men stumbled into the room. Carlos immediately recognized himself, but his blood ran as cold as ice as he looked at the other man that he was currently pushing against the wall and kissing feverishly.

It wasn’t Cecil.

Carlos watched, completely frozen in place as he watched himself slip his hand underneath the shirt of the strange man as the other began to frantically unbutton the buttons to Carlos’s flannel, pushing it off of his shoulders with an urgency that bordered along desperate as Carlos continued to kiss him, their moans intermingling, growing more and more loud as the other man broke the kiss to mouth at Carlos’s throat.

“Bed,” Carlos heard his voice growl, and the two of them broke apart, stumbling towards the bed. The other man – whose face, when Carlos tried to look at it, was so generic it was indescribable, almost as if a temporal perception filter had been placed over it, making it impossible to discern any distinguishable features – ridded himself of his t-shirt, tossing it across the room as he shucked off his jeans before Carlos’s other self grabbed his arm and pulled him on top of him on the bed. Carlos saw that his jeans had disappeared as well as he watched, and he swallowed thickly.

“What about your boyfriend?” An inscrutable voice asked, and Carlos realized it belonged to the stranger he was watching himself grind against as underwear was shed. The voice was neither masculine nor feminine, and was just as indescribable as its owner.

“He won’t be home for another two hours.” Carlos heard his own voice say. “Besides,” he watched as he reached out and placed the picture of him and Cecil face down on the bedside table. “Who says he has to know?”

Carlos felt a full bodied shudder course through his body as his heart constricted in his chest like a punch to the gut. He looked away as he saw his other self begin to gently caress the body of the strange man as their kisses grew more passionate, the moans louder and more wanton by the second, and looked back at Cecil’s face, his heart breaking nearly in two at the sight of his boyfriend’s expression. He was crying, harder now, his teeth gritted, shaking his head furiously.

“No, Carlos, please, I’m sorry!” He sobbed. “I’m sorry I can’t! I’m sorry I’m broken! Please! _Please!_ ”

The moans were growing more and more suggestive, as gasps began to break through them like chips of ice, and Carlos didn’t need to look to know what was going on. He gathered Cecil into his arms, holding the other man close, Cecil’s face pressed against the side of his neck. He smoothed a hand through Cecil’s hair again, letting the longer white strands fall through his fingers as he nosed at the darker haired sides gently, pressing his lips close to Cecil’s ear.

“Cecil, listen to me.” He said sternly, but gently. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I promise you, I will never, _ever_ do this to you.  Whatever the reason you think you’re broken, I promise you, you aren’t. You’re absolutely perfect in every single way. You mean everything to me. I love you more than I will ever be able to express, and I know we haven’t been together all that long, but Cecil Palmer, I have loved you from the moment I heard your voice on that radio over a year ago. I promise, I _promise_ on everything I hold to be true, that I will never, ever cheat on you.”

Thready, broken panting and moans still sounded through the din, threatening to drown out Carlos’s voice as it increased in intensity and volume. Cecil’s sobbing became more and more hysterical as he begged Carlos not to leave, not to do this, and Carlos squeezed his eyes closed tightly as he held him closer, so close he was almost positive their bodies could be made one. He pressed Cecil’s head against his chest as he curled around him protectively, as though to shield him from the scene around them.

He did not want to be here when the inevitable happened, when that dam broke. He wasn’t sure he could take the look on Cecil’s face when it did.

“Cecil, I think I understand. This is what you fear most, isn’t it? Me being unfaithful? Please, baby, I promise. It’s just a dream. You can wake up, and I promise I’ll be here. I’ll always be here. I love you.”

He pressed his lips against Cecil’s, gently but firmly, and suddenly, everything around them fell silent, and Carlos was overcome with an astounding bought of dizziness, and he fell into darkness, still clutching Cecil close.

 

***

 

Carlos gasped as he came to, his eyes snapping open to find that he was once again in his bed, in his bedroom, in his apartment above the lab. He sat straight up in bed, panting for breath, as he brought a hand up to run it through his errant curls, pushing them back and away from his face, wishing he had a hair tie to pull it back with as the strands clung to the sweat of his forehead before he buried his face in his hands, trying desperately to garner his surroundings, slowing bringing himself back inwards. After a moment, he flopped backwards back onto the bed. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, trying to stop the pounding of his heart. After a few minutes, his breathing slowed, and Carlos opened his eyes and rolled over onto his side to look at the warm body next to him in the bed.

Cecil was still sound asleep, but now, his face had softened, no longer warped and twisted with pain and torment, serene and gentle as he snored quietly. Carlos grazed his fingertips across Cecil’s jaw, smiling fondly at the dark haired stubble that was beginning to form there, and he pressed a kiss to the corner of Cecil’s mouth.

“I’ll be here when you wake.” He promised as he pulled away. He shifted in the bed, pressing himself closer to Cecil, sealing the other man’s back against his chest as he wrapped his arm around him. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Carlos didn’t sleep for the rest of the night, his mind in constant overdrive as it calculated and absorbed all it was that he had witnessed in Cecil’s dream. While part of him was absolutely thrilled at having been able to experience such a scientifically fascinating phenomena such as dream sharing, the other part of him felt sad, and concerned.

Today was Worst Fear Wednesday, he remembered. Cecil had broadcasted about it on his show the day before, while Carlos had been listening from his desk in the lab. At first, Carlos had thought that Worst Fear Wednesday’s confrontation was meant in the literal sense: that he would come face-to-face with his worst fear, in a corporeal and tangible form. Or, perhaps, he would be sent a pamphlet or document in the mail detailing the psychology behind human fear, with a form that he would sign saying that he had read the information provided even though he hadn’t (he was a scientist, not a psychologist), and that would be that. But nothing, not even having lived in Night Vale for over year, could have prepared him for what he had experienced.

He had to admit, if the City Council was going to force Night Vale residents to face their fears, having them do so through dreams was _much_ less messy than the alternatives.

Cecil, for the most part, slept relatively peacefully for the remainder of the night, the only sounds escaping from his mouth being the occasional mutter, and his soft snoring. Carlos smiled and pressed his forehead against the junction of Cecil’s neck and shoulder, thankful for the serenity his boyfriend had finally found. It had not come without a vicious fight, especially on Carlos’s part, but the battle had been won.

As the sun began to rise, and soft light began to filter into the bedroom through the blinds of the window, Carlos very carefully retracted from the cozy cocoon of his bed and boyfriend, and carefully eased himself out of the bed. Cecil’s face scrunched up in disapproval at the loss of contact, but he didn’t awaken as he rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow. Carlos smiled fondly as he leant over the bed to kiss the back of Cecil’s head, grabbing his glasses from the bedside table before he tiptoed to the door, and quietly slipped into the hallway, making a beeline for the kitchen.

After a nightmare like that, Carlos had the sneaking suspicion that Cecil might enjoy breakfast in bed.

 

***

 

Thirty minutes, three charred wheat-free pancakes, two burned fingers, and one very angry stove burner later, Carlos carried a teetering platter down the hall towards his bedroom. He shouldered the door open, fully expecting to find Cecil still sleeping like a rock, but was surprised to find Cecil awake, sitting up in bed and stretching wide, yawning like a lion on the savanna. He grinned as he set his sights on Carlos in the doorway, and Carlos smiled warmly back.

“Hey.” He said softly.

“Hey.” Cecil responded, his voice still thick with sleep. His eyes brightened at the sight of the tray in Carlos’s hands. “What’s that?”

“Breakfast.” Carlos said, crossing the room to set the tray across Cecil’s lap, kissing his forehead in greeting. “They might be a bit crispy. The burner and I had a bit of a disagreement.”

“That’s fine.” Cecil said sincerely as he picked up the fork in the corner of the tray. “This is incredibly sweet of you, dear Carlos.”

His expression was so full of warmth and affection that it made Carlos’s heart stutter. He swallowed as he slowly lowered himself down onto the bed. Cecil looked at him quizzically over the rim of his glass of orange juice as he took a sip, cocking his head to the side as he sat it back down on the tray.

“Carlos?” He asked, reaching out a hand to place it atop one of Carlos’s in his lap, twining their fingers together. “Is there…something wrong?”

Carlos swallowed again, and looked at their joined hands. He squeezed Cecil’s fingers tightly, taking a deep breath. He raised his head and looked into Cecil’s bright violet eyes.

“Cecil…” He said, slowly. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course you can!” Cecil said, smiling. He squeezed Carlos’s hand encouragingly. “You can ask me anything.”

“Why do you think you’re broken?”

Carlos felt Cecil’s hand stiffen in his own, and his eyes went as wide as saucers. Carlos saw unadulterated fear cross his handsome face as he paled, and he retracted his hand from Carlos’s, laying it back in his own lap. Carlos felt his heart twinge at the loss of contact.

“I…I saw your dream last night.” Carlos explained quietly. “I woke up and you were crying…so I kissed your forehead and it created some kind of telepathic connection, I think, and I…I saw your dream.”

“Oh.”

Cecil’s voice was soft. He was staring down at the pancakes in front of him, wringing his hands subconsciously in his lap. Carlos could hear the faint echoes of pain and anguish in that single, soft syllable, and it made his entire body ache with heartache and love.

“I’m sorry.” He said, placing a hand on Cecil’s knee. “I never meant to pry, or eavesdrop. I couldn’t get you to wake up, and I was worried…”

“It’s alright.” Cecil said quickly. “You did nothing wrong, dear Carlos.” He rubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

“Find out what?” Carlos asked, frowning. “Cecil, what is it?”

Cecil sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before he shook his head again, and looked up, but he didn’t meet Carlos’s gaze. Carlos could see that tears were beginning to form in those impossibly beautiful eyes, and Cecil bit his lip to keep it from trembling.

“Cecil.” Carlos said softly. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Cecil shut his eyes and shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Carlos.” He said quietly. He moved the tray off of his lap onto the empty side of the bed next to him, and he pulled the covers away and sat his feet on the ground. He grabbed his walking cane from where it sat leaning against the wall next to the bedside table. “I’m so sorry. I…I’ll just leave. Save you the trouble.”

“Cecil!” Carlos reached out and grabbed Cecil’s hand. “Cecil, you aren’t making sense! Please, just tell me what’s wrong!”

Cecil looked back at him, fresh tears flowing down his cheeks. Carlos had seen his fear, had seen his worst nightmare, and still, nothing compared to the way his heart constricted at the sight of the pain in those eyes. He wanted to chase it away, to cast that fear and heartbreak out and forbid it to ever return. Carlos squeezed Cecil’s hand.

“Please, you can tell me.” He insisted.

Cecil regarded him for a moment before he slowly lowered himself onto the bed next to Carlos once more. Carlos kept their fingers firmly slotted together, and he waited in silence for Cecil to speak when he was ready.

Cecil stared at the floor for several minutes before he finally spoke.

“I’ve had three boyfriends.” He said, swallowing. “Before you. And at first, everything was good. It was new, and exciting, and oh so wonderful. I thought I was on top of the world. We would go out, see a movie, take walks, and then come back to either of our respective locations of residence and cuddle. It was nice. But then…”

Carlos squeezed his hand, prompting Cecil to continue.

Cecil’s voice became softer as he spoke again.

“But then, eventually, they got tired of just cuddling, of just making out and being close. They wanted to be closer, to move things further. And at first, I lied and said I just wasn’t ready, that I wanted to take things slow, and that worked, for a little while…but then they just sort of pressure me into it until I finally caved and gave them what they wanted. And then it was back to being good. But then they wanted it more and more, and would get frustrated or angry when I said no again and again, and eventually – the first one – he just left.  Then the second and third came along, and it happened again, and I would just give in all the time to avoid arguments, but sometimes I just couldn’t stand it so I told them no, and then…”

He stopped his rambling to squeeze his eyes closed again. Carlos opened his mouth to speak, but Cecil beat him to it.

“One day, I came home from work and found my second boyfriend having sex with another man. And when I confronted him about it, he just yelled at me, told me it was my fault and that if I would just give in every now and then he wouldn’t have felt the need to cheat. He called me a prude, and told me I was a broken freak, and that I was selfish before he stormed out. The third wasn’t much better. He told me that he was sure he could change my mind if I just let him try now and then, but even when I _did_ have sex with him, he didn’t listen when I said I didn’t like it, and, eventually…he cheated too. Got a girlfriend and moved out of state, but not before he, too, said I was broken, and cold, and wished me luck in finding someone who would “put up with me,” as he put it.”

He glanced at Carlos out of the corner of his eye, and Carlos nodded, not making a move to say a word until Cecil was one hundred percent done with what he had to say.

“And for a long time I believed them. I thought that maybe there _was_ something wrong with me. That maybe they were right and I _was_ broken, and selfish, and a prude. And then…then I met you, Carlos. And I thought maybe, just maybe it would be different with you! But it’s just…it’s just not, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I led you on, that I lied and didn’t tell you but Carlos, I was just so scared that you’d leave…”

“Cecil.” Carlos cut off his boyfriend’s rambling by squeezing his hand tighter, and tipped Cecil’s face towards his with a gentle hand on his chin. He looked straight into Cecil’s eyes. “Cecil, are you telling me that you’re asexual?”

Cecil nodded, his eyes once more filling with tears, and he bit his lip again as he looked at Carlos, those eyes so full of pain and fear of judgment, of rejection that Carlos couldn’t hold it any longer. He let go of Cecil’s hand to cradle his face, wiping away the tears that fell with the pads of his thumbs.

“Oh, Cecil.” He breathed quietly. “I wish you had told me sooner.”

“I know.” Cecil whimpered. “And I’m _so sorry_ that I didn’t. And I understand if you don’t want to be with me now that you know, but I just…I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing you when I love you so much.”

“You aren’t going to lose me!” Carlos leant their foreheads together. “There is nothing you could ever do in this world to make me not want you, Cecil. Nothing. Not a single thing. You didn’t have to be afraid to tell me you’re asexual, Cecil.”

“I’m sorry.” Cecil whispered, closing his eyes as he slowly began to relax into Carlos’s touch.

“Don’t apologize.” Carlos pressed a kiss to the dark part of Cecil’s hair. “Everyone is afraid of something, Cecil. If anything, _I’m_ sorry that you had to go through that. You didn’t deserve all those things they said about you and did to you. You didn’t deserve to feel uncomfortable, or pressured into anything, or that you _deserved_ to be treated like you were, because you don’t. Not one bit, Cecil. You are wonderful just as you, asexual or not.”

Cecil looked at him, his purple eyes swelling with new tears as a smile formed beneath his bitten lip.

“You…you mean you really don’t care? That I’m ace? That I can’t…that I don’t want to have sex with you?”

“Not one bit.” Carlos assured him, caressing his thumb across Cecil’s cheekbone. "And you know, in a way, I'm glad that they couldn't see how wonderful you are, and left, because...now I get the chance to show you how absolutely _amazing_ you are, how much of an idiot they all were to give you up over something so petty."

"You...you really mean that?" The hope in Cecil’s face and voice was unmistakable.

"Of course I do, Cecil.” Carlos affirmed. “I don't need sex to be happy, or to be intimate with you. There’s so much more to intimacy than sex. Remember that time we soaked our feet in the bathtub when you had a Lyme flare up and your arthritis hurt so bad you couldn’t walk? Or when we built that fort the night it rained frogs and rats and watched movies until we fell asleep? Or when I had that horrible cold and the scorpions stole all of my NyQuil and you came over to cuddle with me and make me soup? Those moments were far more intimate, far more precious to me than sex _ever_ could be, Cec. Ever."

Cecil sniffed. "Really?"

" _Yes_." Carlos rubbed his nose against his boyfriend’s, smiling softly at him. “If I let something as inconsequential as sex get in the way of something like that, what kind of idiot would that make me?”

"But...Carlos, I...I know you aren't asexual, like me. I know you're sexually attracted to me."

"Well, can you blame me?" Carlos grinned crookedly, earning him a small smile in reply. "You're pretty attractive; very handsome. But I'm not just attracted to you in that way. I'm also attracted to your wit and your humor, your charm and patience, your kindness, your intelligence. You aren’t just attracted to  me for my looks and hair, are you?”

“Of course not!” Cecil eyes went wide.

 “See? I feel the same way about you. There's a lot more to you than just your body, Cec. So much more."

"But...what about...satisfaction? It's not that I can't make you happy that way, I can try!" He flushed and buried his face in his hands. "I mean, I've done it before…lots of times, like I said. It wasn't all that interesting, and I didn't particularly enjoy it, but I can try! For you..."

"Hey." Carlos caught Cecil's tattooed wrists gently and lowered them, peering into Cecil's loving eyes. "I don't want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, not for me. Not ever for me. There is _nothing_ wrong with you not liking sex, Cecil. Nothing at all. And those assholes that told you that there is, tried to tell you you're wrong, were out of their fucking minds."

In an instant, Cecil launched himself at Carlos, knocking him flat on his back on the bed. Carlos curled his arms around the shaking body of his boyfriend tightly, holding him close and stroking his hair as Cecil buried his face in Carlos’s t-shirt, crying softly, his tears soaking through the fabric. Carlos cooed to him softly, pressing gentle kisses to the top of his head, whispering sweet nothings in his ear as Cecil cried.

“Hey.” He said quietly, very gently tugging on the white part of Cecil’s hair so that his boyfriend would look up at him, his eyes puffy and red. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m sorry.” Cecil sniffed, wiping his nose on the back of his hand and tattooed forearm. “I’m sorry, I’m just…I’m just so _happy_ , Carlos. I never in my wildest dreams thought it could be possible this to happen, for you to…to love me as much as I love you. For you to accept me _and_ my asexuality.”

“I love _you_.” Carlos said sternly. “Everything about you. And that means, I love you just the way you are, asexual, and everything else in between. Being asexual is a part of who you are, Cecil, and I love you for it. And I promise, I will _never_ be unfaithful to you. Not ever.”

Cecil smiled at him, genuinely this time, the grin nearly splitting his face in two as Carlos awkwardly bent down to press his lips to Cecil’s. Cecil squirmed his way upwards until he was parallel to Carlos, thusly deepening the kiss, and he brought his hands up to tangle them in Carlos’s hair. Carlos hummed in pleasure, and settled one hand on Cecil’s hip while the other pressed him closer at the small of his back, and after a moment, they both pulled away to catch their breaths. Cecil pressed his forehead against Carlos’s again.

“Thank you.” He breathed. “Thank you, thank you, _thank you,_ Carlos. Gods above, thank you. For everything.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Carlos assured him, kissing his nose. “Really. I love you, Cecil.”

“I love you, too, Carlos.” Cecil said. “You are absolutely amazing.”

Carlos grinned, and the two of them stayed there for a few moments more, their foreheads together, lost in each other’s eyes as languid kisses here stolen between bouts of breath, their existence as close as it could possibly be until Carlos very carefully pulled them both into a sitting position once more, smoothing a lock of Cecil’s white hair.

“We should probably warm up your breakfast.” He said, tilting his head towards the forgotten tray next to them. “I think I can coax the microwave into cooperating this time.”

Cecil smiled and nodded, climbing off from on top of Carlos to stand to his feet. He grabbed his purple framed glasses from the bedside table and slip them onto his face, grasping his cane in one hand as he twined the other’s fingers with Carlos’s, refusing to release contact for even a second. Carlos balanced the tray of food in his free hand as the two of them walked out of the bedroom into the hallway, making their way towards the kitchen. After Carlos sat the tray down on the counter, he turned and pulled Cecil close.

His beautiful, wonderful, lovely Cecil. As long as he was able to hold him in his arms, he would never want for anything.

“So tell me.” He said nonchalantly. “Do you have any other fears to face on this Worst Fear Wednesday?”

Cecil smiled, and shook his head. “Not anymore.”

**Author's Note:**

> Also, in case you didn't catch the throwaway line referring to it, Cecil also has arthritis in this fic, another headcanon I hold near and dear, as I, too, suffer from arthritis. :) Just thought I might throw that out there!


End file.
